


See Goodneighbor Right

by FetFemme



Series: The Three Misfits [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Jealousy, Kinda, Lots of Drugs, M/M, Mystery, Other, Pre-Relationship, Violence, nick valentine - Freeform, when bae stabs the bad guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 09:56:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13164522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FetFemme/pseuds/FetFemme
Summary: John meets Nick’s “new friend” as she and Nick go off for an adventure while he remains because he has to run his town… and he wasn’t invited to come along.





	See Goodneighbor Right

**Author's Note:**

> Character building piece with a short and sweet smut!

Nora was grumpy. She’d probably taken over twenty-five lives in the thirty-six hours, not counting wasteland critters, despite that she only started to use a gun less than a week ago. Dried blood (most of it not hers) was coming off of her skin in dandruff-like flakes and it made her skin itchy and irritable. The vault suit was riding uncomfortably up her ass, her inner thighs had to be chafed an angry pink by now. Her entire body was sore, not being used to walking miles of rough land with heavy packs of scavenge and survival gear. 

And now, with Nick Valentine -a subject she was not ready to ponder over-, entering the seediest settlement she’s seen all week to follow the next clue in the case of her missing son. She often found her thoughts drifting to him, as one would expect of a mourning, distressed, and newly-ish widowed mother, and her heart felt heavier each time.

 She shook her head clear, trying to will herself to focus as they finished walking through what used to be the Financial District. Nick opened the door for her to walk through, letting her take in her newest discovery of her ruined city. Before she got to fully look around, a mangy man stood before them, holding up his palm in a halting motion in front of his chest as if to stop them.

 “Hold up Valentine, I know yer a regular but I got a question for your hot little date over there.” Finn leered, not even looking at Nick as his eyes roamed over her. He turned to face the timid looking, dark skinned woman in a skin-tight Vault-Tec jumpsuit of royal blue lined with bright yellow.

 “First time in Goodneighbor, toots? Can’t go walking around here with insurance.”

 Her lip curled distastefully, briefly throwing a rather harsh glare in Finn’s direction before letting her eyes drift back to the long alley in the distance that would lead to the Memory Den. He pushed himself back into her line of sight, visibly angrier, “Hey, we don’t take too kindly to being ignored here.”

 “Step off, Finn.” Nick growled lightly, yellow eyes flashing dangerously. He shifted his pace, ready to step in front of her if necessary, which annoyed her further.

 Nora unglued her eyes from the scenery and looked up at the filthy man in front of her, “Back off,” She scowled, glowering darkly as if she wasn’t a good 8 inched shorter than him, “Otherwise, you may want to consider getting insurance yourself.”

 “Oh, is that right?” he goaded, pock-marked face twisted with rage, “I don’t think I heard you over the sound of your pathetic poker face.”

 He edged closer to her, keeping just far enough to keep Nick from taking action, “Listen here girly, you hand over everything you got in them pockets so ‘accidents’ don’t start happening to ya. Big. Bloody. ‘Accidents’.”

 “Woah, woah, woah,” A commanding voice cut in, lurking in the shadows. “Time out. What have we got goin’ on here?”

 Nora’s eyes swept over him while he sauntered over with a “Devil Take Me” attitude. Her first thought was how ridiculous his get-up was, dressed in a dirty redcoat, tight pants that drew an inappropriate amount of attention to his groin, a twisted up American flag for a belt, and a poetic white shirt billowing with every step he took. She thought he looked like one of those ridiculous war reenactment fans from back in her time, eager to fantasize they lived in a war that didn’t involve nuclear warfare. Then she caught better glimpse of his face in the flickering lantern lights lining the alleys. Callous, dried out, hairless skin, pocked with shallow burns, onyx-black eyes slightly shiny with a drug induced glaze. She didn’t know what to think of it, contemplating that he may be a burn victim or got sick with some horrible post-war skin rash.

 But then she saw the state house behind him, its old glory dilapidated with age and nuclear wind, stained with muck and blood and god knows what else. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from it. She was entranced, it reminded her of herself and the changes she was bound to undergo in this hellish wasteland.

 

However from Hancock’s end, he was just pissed. His partner in crime had been missing for weeks and then shows up on a mission with some random, doe-y eyed damsel in distress trailing after him. He was mad that the Pickman Gallery debacle still hasn’t been figured out. He was ready to strike out faster than a deathclaw at Finn for treating welcomed guests like future victims, which just wasn’t the Goodneighbor way.

 He traipsed suavely to stand behind Finn, letting his drugged haze slip his voice into a smooth, laidback tone, “Someone steps through that gate the first time, means they’re a guest, Finn. You lay off the extortion shit, brother.”

 Finn whirled around and stepped forward antagonistically, hand hovering several inches above his knife, “What d’you care? She ain’t one of us, the synth is bad enough already when he sees us schemin’.”

  _It was gonna feel too good, stabbing Finn_ , he thought, smirking internally. He laughed joyously, spreading his arms welcomingly, “No love for your mayor, Finn? I said let ‘em go.”

 “You’re soft, Hancock. Keep letting outsiders just walk all over us and one day there’ll be a new mayor.” He snarled, the only one ignorant of the blood thirsty glint behind his eyes,

 “C’mon man,” he smiled as if he was talking to a pal over some beer and jet, “This is me we’re talkin’ bout. C’mere, lemme tell ya somethin’.” He slid over to the man and threw a casual arm over his shoulder, spreading his other arm wide as if to draw him into a hug. Only to draw a serrated hunting knife with a flick of the wrist and swing it into Finn’s chest in one smooth thrust.

 Hancock stood above the sleazy man’s body, playing it cool and sliding his knife back into his American flag sash while his heart was throbbing heavily beneath his coat. The adrenaline that came with ending the life of a scumbag hasn’t ever faded over the years. He decided that he deserved a hearty handful of mentats. He fished a small tin from his jacket pocket and opened it, popping five or six into his mouth. He let the chem slowly dissolve over his tongue, enjoying the slight sensation of tingling. “Now why’d you have to go an’ say shit like that, huh? Breakin’ my heart over here.”

 He glanced at Nick dripping with a “we need to talk” look before sizing up the woman next to him. Her skin was dark, like the aged wood of his desk, her oily hair was pulled into a rope-like braid, and her eyes were a deep brown and very wide on her face behind round glasses. He was reminded of those pre-war taboo magazines of voluptuous, larger women, especially with her vault suit looking like it was painted on. If he looked close enough, he could almost see very dark freckles dusting over the bridge of her button nose.

 She stood out among scavengers, raiders, and farmers in both body type and general attitude, Hancock would bet his entire stash she wasn’t from here, both chems _and_ alcohol.

 Nick coughed loudly, a rather obvious sign for him to stop staring since he actually had no biological reason to cough. Nora’s mouth was agape, eyes flickering between Hancock and Finn’s body. He centered himself in front of her line of sight, “Now I know ya had ole Finn handled back there, but a mayor’s gotta make a point sometimes. Y’alright?”

 “Y-you’re a ghoul?” She gasped, not exactly asking since she witnessed it.

 “That’s right, ya like my face? I think it gives me a sexy king-of-the-zombies kinda look. _Big_ hit with the lovers.” Hancock puffed his chest out before his continues, “Listen, lot of walkin’ rad-freaks around here, so you might wanna keep questions like that on the low-burner next time.”

 “You killed him?” She said, almost as if ignoring her faux-pas.

 “Got a good pair o’ eyes on ya,” He continued good-naturedly, “I think you’ll fit in just fine. Goodneighbor’s of the people, for the people, ya feel me?”

 Nick shook his head and chucked good-naturedly. “Nice of you to step in, John.”

 “Of the people, for the people? Oh, brother,” She deadpanned, rolling her eyes as the shock abruptly faded from her visage. Hancock let out a bellowing laugh.

 “I can tell I’m gonna like you already.”

 

And that led to a detour while in route to the Memory Den: the third floor of the Statehouse, the ghoul mayor’s abode. Hancock had readily prepared to convince them to make the detour anyways, but he was all too pleased to find that Nick cut him off quickly and agreed to stop with ill-conceived eagerness.

Nora was clearly uncomfortable, letting her eyes wander too freely while bouncing heavily from foot to foot and crossing her arms tightly, uncrossing only to push her glasses up her nose or pull at the end of her waist long braid as it hung over the curve of her shoulder.  

Hancock found it funny at first, then rather annoying, and then it started to make his eye twitch irritably every time the floorboards creaked beneath her ever-shifting weight. But Hancock unsurprisingly didn’t mind the view of the vault-girl swaying her hips impatiently.

He needed to get Nick alone though, the mentats pulsing his mind to focus through the racing thoughts in his head. He was trying to figure out a way to make this strange woman un-cling from the detective without drawing her suspicion or prompting her to eavesdrop. He looked her over, noting the grime, dried blood of many colors, and sweat stains sticking to her physique.

“Do ya wanna shower or somethin’?” Hancock offered easily, gesturing in the direction of the bathroom. “I got runnin’ water up here.”

And she had disappeared behind the door before he’d finish speaking, clutching her bag to her chest and mumbling her thanks. Which left the two men in a _much_ more private room.

 

"So where the fuck ya been, Nicky?” Hancock asked bluntly.

 

Nick sighed, sitting down and dropping his fedora into his lap, “Got captured. Ellie found Nora wandering around Diamond City. That little lady blew through all of Skinny Malone’s men with stealth-boys, a silenced power fist, and an assault rifle that was gonna fall apart with the next bullet. Walked out with me and about 700 caps worth of scavenge.”

 “She do this outta the kindness of her heart?” He asked sarcastically, secretly admiring the description of a random woman who helps those who need it and doesn’t mind getting her hands dirty.

 “She assumed she wasn’t getting paid, then asked to hire me for a case she needed solved. I eventually convinced her to pocket a good hundred caps or so and a place to sleep if she needed it.”

 “What’s the case? She’s thinkin’ her boyfriend’s a synth or something?”

 “She asked me to keep it in confidence unless it was urgent,” He admitted warily, anxiously waiting for Hancock to react with a frown, “The stuff we’re tracking needs to be kept as quiet as possible.” The ghoul nodded with a sigh.

 “This gonna get you disappearing on me again?”

 “Hopefully not,” he said dryly, smirking to the side of his face.

 Hancock smiled similarly, nodding in acceptance, “Get your Memory Den trip done, then meet at the Third Rail?”

 “You betcha,” Nick agreed, leaning over to press a lingering kiss to the side of the ghoul’s mouth.

 “Can ya at least tell me what’cha goin’ to the Memory Den for?”

 Nick sighed, running a hand over his smooth head, “We found a high tech piece of scrap that we think Amari could decrypt. It feels like grasping at straws but we can’t let this case drop.”

 “Sound like you might be gettin’ into something that you might have some trouble gettin’ out of.” Hancock accused quietly, the mirth slowly seeping from his face, “What kinda situation is this vault-babe gettin’ you into?”

 “I need more solid evidence before I can say anything to you, John,” he exhaled heavily, “But it might be something pretty damn big.”

 Hancock tried pretty hard to ignore that pang of worry seeping into his chest, Nick has running his business out of Diamond City for over fifty years and he has never spoke of a case with the type of unease currently flitting across his face.

 Before the worry had the chance to properly form words, Nora came back out from the bathroom. Her hair was loose from her braid, spreading around her face and down her back in a wiry mane and she looked much less tense. She looked around nervously, keeping her vault-suit wrapped into a ball held tightly at her side.

 “Thanks,” she muttered stiffly, “I appreciate you opening your home to Detective Valentine and me, Mayor Hancock.”

 “So formal.” Hancock tilted his head to the side curiously, “This is a good place to let your hair down sister, and not just literally. Of the people, for the people means we’re all welcome to do our own thing and shake hands over a beer after.”

 Nora scoffed, planting her fists on her waist as if she was about to scold him, “With all due respect, all that talk is expected from the _mayor_ of the town, wouldn’t you agree?” She started to pace again, not noticing that her balled up clothing was unraveling quickly in her loosened grip.

 “I got the same spiel from Mayor McDonough when I made it to Diamond City.” Hancock stiffened at her mention of this, “And when I went to the aid of the Brotherhood of Steel, theirs was just as insistent. Is this just the common way talk among new world politicians?”

 Hancock looked completely scandalized and offended but laughed it off light-heartedly, “You’re a spicy one ain’tcha?” He started to subtly usher them out, “Well I won’t keep those that don’t wanna be kept. Just know that this a safe space to lay your pretty little heads, should ya take me up on the offer.”

 Nora walked out, decidedly unimpressed, leaving Nick to follow her with a grimace, shooting an empathetic glance towards his lover before disappearing out of the Statehouse.

 Later that evening, Hancock found himself in a darker, more secluded area of the Third Rail. The pale red glow leaked into the hidden VIP room through the thin door separating him and Nick from the rest of the club. He was lounging on a dusty couch, kicking his legs out and resting his boots lightly in his lover’s lap. They chatted miscellaneously between Hancock’s sip of orange mentat infused whiskey and Nick’s long inhales from his cigarette. While happy to be with his partner, it was obvious that the synth was unable to fully relax because once one cigarette burned to the filter in his metallic hand, it was immediately replaced with a freshly lit one. Dense clouds of smoke filled the space around them, illuminated by the glow, only disturbed by one of them leaning over to kiss the other chastely.

 “You find anyone to go to Pickman’s Gallery yet?”

 “None that have come back,” Hancock grunted, tipping a few more orange mentats into his drink. “Startin’ to think I might have to get a crew together for this one. Or maybe it’s actually haunted, if I could bring myself to believe it.”

 “No, this all screams a setup,” Nick responded, “Someone’s gotten a hold of some traps to lock himself inside so no one can get to him, maybe because they’ve gotten themselves with some kinda trouble, possibly with raiders given what we know so far.”

 Hancock shook his head, “That’s business talk, Nicky, we’re supposed to be winding down for the evenin’.”

 He let his glass of booze slide across the table, leaving sticky streaks along the wood. Swinging his legs off of Nick’s lap, he edged forward gracefully and swiped the lit cigarette from his metal hand. Hancock took a long drag before setting it in the slot of the nearby ashtray. Nick grabbed his wrists tightly before kissing him hungrily, already opening his mouth to the ghoul’s insistent tongue.

 Hancock fully intended to make quick work with their clothing, already letting his deft fingers pluck at the belt buckle of the detective’s pants and draw down the zipper of his slacks. He let his fingers skim the synthetic flesh of his hip teasingly. Without removing himself from their locked lips, he slid down and let his knees settle on the ground. Breaking the kiss, Nick looked down lovingly at him, relishing the soft grin and the black eyes shining with affection.

 “Ya miss me while you were gone?”

 “I always do,” Nick captured his lips once more before letting Hancock do his own thing.

 Hancock licked heavily at the skin revealed by his unzipped slacks, letting his tongue drag down further as he continued pulling them past Nick’s hips. The first time they’d tried this as a couple, Nick was wary of letting the ghoul go down on him, unsure of how his synthetic components worked sexually, but at Hancock’s gentle insistence, he learned that it was greatly enjoyable.

 Hancock left the pants sitting loosely on his lower thighs, wrapping his hand around the already hardening cock and kissed up the thickest vein and around the head. Nick ran his hand up the smoother skin of the man’s neck before the large tricorn hat tilted into his hands; he let it fall carelessly to the ground so he could get a better view of Hancock’s eyes fluttering open and shut while his cheeks started to hollow more prominently. He watched him use the flat of his tongue press firmly into the base of his erection, feeling the coolant rush through the skin as he got even harder with his ministrations. The ghoul’s hands never stayed still, wandering around his lover’s body and caressing whatever he felt like caressing, silent except an occasional muffled groan and the quiet smack of his tongue moving.

 At times like these, Nick was never really sure what to do with his hands. He didn’t want to seem too insistent by placing his hands on John’s head, he moved around too much to run his fingers down his cheeks, he rarely could reach his shoulders, but it felt too wrong not to touch the man at all. John quickly absolved his dilemma by bringing Nick’s hands up to cup his head firmly without losing the rhythm of his bobbing head.

 Since it had been many weeks, Nick did not last long between the quickly increasing rhythm of his movements and the warm, wet swallowing movement enveloping as much as John could manage. Before he could stutter out a warning, John had managed to take his cock deep enough to brush his lips along his pelvis and swallowed hard, letting his cock spurt deeply into his throat in completion.

 The ghoul made deliberate eye contact as he languidly licked his lips for the remnants of the slightly bitter, synthetic cum. How the ghoul managed to make his black stare sultry, Nick will never know. He pulled Hancock up by his shoulders, plunging his tongue into his mouth to taste the deeply heady taste lingering.

 A loud knock startled the both of them into separating, Nick hastily pulling up and fastening his pants while Hancock grabbed his drink and a canister of Jet before settling back onto the couch. Nora peeked her head in, holding several open beers and a fifth of some sort of alcohol.

 “Am I interrupting anything?” she asked, seemingly unaware of what had been going on only seconds ago. “I decided to come and relax since I’d settled in Rexford and that Ham guy said I’d find Nick here.”

 Hancock took a hit of his Jet to hide the scowl that was going to cover his face, Nick just nudged a lounge chair in her direction, “Come take a seat, doll.”

 She stepped into the room, letting the door shut gently behind her, “Thanks. I brought some ales and something I think is rum.”

 “Pretty gracious of ya,” Hancock half-smiled, “Kinda figured ya weren’t too impressed with me after our little run-in today.”

 She shrugged mildly, “Is anyone quick to trust these days?”

 Hancock nodded, “I can respect that.” He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and take another hit of jet while Nick picked up his cigarette from the ashtray and resumed smoking it, looking much less tense.

 “So what things does a Goodneigbor citizen do for fun around here?” She asked, crossing her legs in a lady-like manner and sipping from her beer bottle. “Do people even play board games or cards these days?”

 The other two were relieved to have such a casual subject to talk about, Hancock immediately grabbed a few decks of cards from the floor and looked up at her devilishly.

 “Ever play a game called Caravan?”

 She shook her head a with a smirk, letting her arms fall onto her knees to mirror his stance, “Teach me, let’s do this.”

 He dealt out cards in front of Nick and Nora in large piles, explaining the rules pretty quickly but waited for her nod of understanding before moving on to the next thing. He spilled an overflowing bag of mentats on the table to use as betting chips, much to Nick’s dismay. They’d spent a solid three or four hours playing, never quite becoming too friendly but enjoying the healthy dose of the competition.

 Nick sat smugly behind his big pile of drugs, both Nora and Hancock knowing that he had no intention of consuming them, but that didn’t stop them from munching on a few of their own and easily calling it a night.

 They stood outside chatting, Nora and Hancock mostly talking through Nick.

 “I better head back to the room.” Nora said, looking around at the scenery past the men, “We have a very long walk tomorrow and I should probably stretch before bed, it’s been a while since I’ve been so active.”

 Hancock nodded nonchalantly and winked, “Maybe after this, you’ll wanna make the next adventure a threesome, this hat of mine is getting pretty heavy.”

 Nora mostly ignored him -not outright rude, but in a way that definitely disregarded him. “Nick, will you be staying at the Hotel Rexford as well?” She asked politely, “I could definitely use a sober escort to my room, plus we have to be up pretty early to plan our route and get supplies.”

 Nick tried his best to answer professionally, resisting the urge to look into Hancock’s pleading eyes, “Yeah, I suppose you got me there, I should actually run by Daisy’s and KL-E-O’s to see what they’ve got in stock.”

 She nodded then turned to leave, clearly strolling at a slow pace to wait for him to catch up with her. Nick turned to Hancock, “John, I’m sorry, she’s a client and seems to have a penchant for trouble.”

 “S’all good,” Hancock frowned, “Just come back in one piece, yeah?”

 “I’ll try my damn best,” Nick promised, reaching over to squeeze his hand gently before turning to follow Nora. Hancock kicked the dirt on the ground around him, immediately deciding to do more Jet once he was undressed and in bed.

  

Nora let Nick walk her around and show her all of Goodneighbor once the morning hit, especially now that she has much more daylight to take in the sights. She watched his lips move, wondering if they moved any differently from her natural lips, “You better get to know the major players here in town. Sometimes Goodneigbor's where the filth washes up since it’s so accepting of anyone who shows up at first, but also means it always has what you need.”

They strolled past an alleyway, he gestured to the door with his chin, “Close by we've got Bobbi No-Nose and her gang. Small town operator. Big town brains. She's always recruiting for the next big job, if you're ever low on caps and don't mind where the money comes from.”

He led her near the subway station doors, stopping to cup his hand over his mouth to light two cigarettes and passed one to her. She accepted gratefully and continued trailing slightly behind him. “Then we've got The Third Rail. Dirtiest drinks in the Commonwealth, but a great place to meet mercs and other unsavory contacts.  Good music, too. Renowned throughout the commonwealth for Magnolia, one of the only known musicians with original works around here.”

Nora looked back at the door leading in, blatantly eager to see what constitutes as a musician in 2287. Nick followed her line of sight, taking in the nostalgic longing in her eyes, he coughed lightly, “It’s a dangerous game to play sometimes, Nora.” He admitted vaguely.

“Sometimes her voice will take me back all those years, where I feel like a human man with my pretty dame and big lunch in a smoke filled lounge, but other times, her singing just reminds me that I’ll never be back in those days. Thankfully, the radio doesn’t do that to me so I usually just stick with that.”

She nodded in understanding, knowing the whole time that listening to Magnolia would only make her think of the times she spent singing in the kitchen with Nate, while Shaun was strapped to one of their chests.

“And all the way across town is the Hotel Rexford, run by Marowski. Used to be the biggest chip in the pile before someone knocked over his chem operation.” He shrugged, “That's just how Goodneighbor is. Always something cooking. Always another angle to play.”

Nora was starting to understand this place, it was so contradictive to her. Chaotic enough to allow all the misfits and criminals but just organized to enough to make sure everyone is on fair playing grounds most of the time. It was odd to her, but also made her start to believe that Mayor Hancock’s spiel on the whole thing was actually sincere.

_Speak of the devil and he shall appear_ , she though wryly as she saw him pop up from around the corner and say something inaudible (to her own hearing anyways) but definitely flirty to Daisy. Her body was fairly achy, but her stretching last night has considerably relieved the tension. And for the first time since she awoke from her centuries long slumber, she –in her drunken stupor- wished that she hadn’t fallen asleep alone last night. She wasn’t a fan of Hancock, though she’s sure his personality is the type that grows on you after a good bit of time, but Nick had her fascinated.

She remembered her time with Nick Valentine, the pre-war human, the long hours spent going over case files with him and the lunches they’d take in a smoky diner with unpleasant waitresses but the _best_ mouth-watering hot sandwiches on that side of Boston. Nick the synth stirred some different feelings in her, but like him, she wasn’t sure how much of it was her attachment to the old Nick or how much was genuine affection for the robotic detective.

Nora tucked her bag tighter to her side, waiting for Nick to finish his pleasantries with Daisy and Hancock, sighing in relief when he turned towards her and carried himself in a purposeful stride to where she was standing.

Hancock stood back with Daisy, waving goodbye to Nick as he started to leave with Nora. Nick waved back warmly, pleased with the many kisses they shared in the early morning hours while Nora was asleep.

And Hancock was left by himself while the love of his life went off on an adventure with one of the strangest women he’s ever met.


End file.
